


Blood and destruction because of one man

by riverwrenwrites



Series: TUA Creator's Bingo [4]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dead Ben Hargreeves, Drug Use, Gen, Gore, I mean.. we know he dead, Major character death - Freeform, Self-Harm, Sort Of, it's just fucking sad okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25403902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverwrenwrites/pseuds/riverwrenwrites
Summary: TUA Creator's Bingo EntryPrompt Filled: Blank SpaceKlaus is seventeen, and currently barred from all Academy business due to his... questionable lifestyle choices. Oblivious to the tragedy unfolding on his siblings’ latest mission, he finds himself being visited by a gruesome and hauntingly familiar ghost.
Series: TUA Creator's Bingo [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715587
Comments: 25
Kudos: 121





	Blood and destruction because of one man

It had been thirty seven minutes and sixteen seconds since Klaus had swallowed two of the rather ominous looking red pills he’d managed to score the night before, and he was  _ starting  _ to think he might have been ripped off. Sure, the room seemed to be spinning just a little bit, but other than that he just felt… Normal. 

Thirty seven minutes and thirty two seconds.

The thought occurred to him that maybe being high  _ was  _ his normal now, and the more he thought about it, the more he realised that he couldn’t quite pinpoint what being sober actually  _ felt  _ like anymore. 

Thirty seven minutes and forty five seconds.

With a deflated sigh, he rolled himself off the bed, barely registering the pain in his side as he hit the floorboards with a heavy thud. He reached under the bed, feeling blindly around until his hand found the soft toy unicorn, repurposed last year into a makeshift cigarette stash. His heart sank when he pried the toy's torso apart, finding nothing but a few remnants of cotton stuffing. 

Thirty eight minutes and twelve seconds.

He was sure there’d been at least twenty when he counted last night. Had he really smoked  _ that  _ many since then? He did tend to smoke more when his siblings were away on a mission, but  _ twenty?  _ Unfortunately, his memory of the past twelve hours was hazy at best, so he just shrugged to himself, getting to his feet and padding down the hall to Allison’s room. 

The silence of the empty house was comforting. Obviously he worried about his siblings while they were away, but dad being out of the house certainly made life easier for a few blissful hours. 

He grabbed a vibrant purple and gold scarf from Allison’s closet as he walked past, twirling it around his neck and admiring himself in the mirror. It didn’t  _ quite  _ match the pyjamas he was wearing, but then, when had that ever stopped him before? Allison kept her cigarettes on the shelf above her dresser, so he clambered on top of it, sending a few brushes and perfume bottles crashing to the floor in the process, and balanced precariously on his toes to reach the ornate pink box. He took a couple, placed the box back on it’s shelf, and made his way back to his own room, stopping to pocket a bottle of deep blue nail polish along the way. 

One hour ten minutes and nineteen seconds.

The sound of Vanya’s violin flooded the house as Klaus lit the second of his stolen cigarettes, letting it burn his lungs while he finished painting over the chipped pink polish on his toes. He flopped back against the mattress and closed his eyes as the music filled his ears. The song was unfamiliar, maybe even improv, which was his favourite to listen to. He liked not knowing what was coming next. 

The music washed over him, and he felt as though a thick, heavy blanket had been laid over him, pushing him deeper into the mattress. It was the most relaxed he’d felt all day, letting out a deep breath and stubbing his cigarette out on his bedside table. Gradually, the sound drifted further and further away, until all he could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. 

One hour twenty one minutes and eleven seconds.

He was pulled out of his daze by the sound of footsteps. Cracking one eye open, he glanced over at his open door. It was a wet, squelching sound, like somebody tracking muddy boots across the hardwood floor. Definitely not mom, then. She never went outside. Vanya was still playing her violin, seemingly oblivious to the approaching sound, and Pogo never went anywhere without his cane. 

“Diego?” He called, wondering if maybe the others had snuck back in without him noticing. 

No answer, and now he could hear the footsteps heading up the stairs. Rolling his eyes, Klaus hopped off the bed and made his way towards the door. 

“If you’re trying to scare me, it won’t work,” He said as he poked his head around the door frame. “Because nothing you do can compare to the nightmare that is my  _ actual  _ life.” 

He was fully expecting to see his siblings crouching on the staircase, waiting to jump out and scare him, but the whole hallway was empty. The footsteps started again, this time overhead, and he let out a loud, dramatic sigh. 

“You guys are assholes,” He muttered, trudging up the stairs.

The corridor was empty, and the noise had disappeared. With a frustrated huff, he made his way quietly across the floor, pausing, and backtracking two steps to Five’s bedroom door. An impossible thought flashed across his mind, before being quickly extinguished by another muffled sound coming from behind Ben’s door. 

Charging across the hall, he threw the door open, ready to cuss his siblings out for being massive jerks and really  _ shitty  _ pranksters. Only it wasn’t his siblings, it was a ghost, at least he  _ hoped  _ that’s what they were, given the state of them. 

He made a mental note to flush the rest of those shitty pills down the toilet later before looking the ghost up and down. The “muddy” shoes he’d heard squelching across the floorboards were drenched in blood, with one leg looking almost as though it had been blown up, ripped completely open with fleshy ribbons hanging down around the exposed bone. Their stomach was shredded to pieces, oozing blood and guts and fatty tissue that squelched and made Klaus’ stomach turn every time the ghost moved. One arm appeared to have been torn off completely, while the other hung limply with a piece of bone jutting out from the elbow, and their face… well, what was  _ left  _ of it, was bloody and shredded, as though it had been practically torn off. One eye was missing, or maybe just sunken behind the swollen exposed flesh, while the other peered out at him, watching him blankly. 

“Uh…” Klaus said, swallowing thickly as he fought to keep the contents of his stomach down. “Look. I can see you’re going through a bit of a  _ rough  _ time, but I do have some ground rules around here. Numero Uno being that my siblings’ bedrooms are strictly off limits.” 

The ghost made a grunting noise and opened their mouth in an attempt to speak, but one side of their jaw appeared to be almost completely detached and the only sound that came out was a sickening gurgling noise as blood dribbled down their chin. They took an unsteady step towards Ben’s desk and he frowned, folding his arms and clearing his throat. 

“Okay,  _ clearly _ you’re new to the whole… being dead thing,” He said as he watched the ghost swiping their hand through the furniture they were attempting to touch. “And you  _ probably  _ have a lot going on. But my brother Ben? He has kind of a nervous disposition, and a creepy ghost tracking blood all over his bedroom isn’t gonna make him feel any better. There’s a  _ million  _ empty rooms in this stupid house for you to haunt. Just not this one. Okay? Please?”

That seemed to capture the ghost’s attention again and they turned back towards him, making what  _ sounded  _ like a whimpering noise. He wasn’t sure if it was the way the ghost stood, or how they looked at him, or  _ what _ , but  _ something _ felt familiar.

“Klaus?”

Shrieking, Klaus spun around, very nearly smacking his sister in the face in the process. Vanya blinked at him for a moment before standing on tiptoes to look over his shoulder. 

“Who are you talking to?” 

“Me? Nobody. No talking going on here. Silent as the grave.” 

He cringed at the poor choice of phrasing, pulling Ben’s bedroom door shut and giving her the most innocent smile he could muster. 

“What are you doing up here anyway?” He asked. “I thought you were practicing.”

“Mom told me to find you. The others will be back soon and I think…” She trailed off, looking uncertain for a moment. “She was acting really strange.” 

“Our robotic mother, built and programmed by our sociopathic father to provide the love he is incapable of feeling, was acting strange? What a turn up for the books.” 

“I’m  _ serious _ , Klaus,” She hissed. “What if something bad happened on their mission?”

“Nothing _ bad _ ever happens on missions, Vanya. They show up, they save the day, the city is once again indebted to us. Hip hip hooray. You’re just being paranoid.” 

Draping his arm over her shoulder, the two of them made their way down the stairs and through the winding corridors to their front door where mom and Pogo were waiting. 

“Hey, Pogo,” He said cheerfully as he strolled up next to him, frowning when Pogo gave him a sympathetic look and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

Next to him, Vanya gave him a strong “I told you so” look before nodding up towards mom, who was staring blankly at the wall opposite. 

“Mom?” He prompted, with no response. “ _ Mom. _ ”

The doors flung open and their father strode in, looking just as stony faced as usual. He didn’t spare either of them so much as a passing glance as he marched across the hall, stopping and turning at the foot of the stairs as he always did to wait for the others. The wait was agonising, but finally the door opened again, and Luther walked in. 

His hair was  _ drenched  _ with blood that ran down his face and onto his uniform, and his eyes were red and puffy with tear tracks streaking down his cheeks. Klaus had  _ never  _ seen him take his mask off before the mission debrief. It made him look strangely young, a far cry from the usual stoic Number One. He paused at the door and glanced over at them, making eye contact with Klaus for a second before looking back down at the floor and hurrying over to stand in front of dad. 

Diego came in next, his jaw clenched tightly as he marched purposefully across the room without a second of hesitation and tracking blood across the tiled floors. There was blood on his hands. The right was dried but the left… Klaus could see it dripping in spots on the floor where he stood, oozing through his fingers as they pressed tightly on the blade in his hand. 

The door swung open again and Allison walked in, making it two paces across the floor before looking over at him and Vanya and bursting into tears. Mom hurried across the room to her, squeezing her shoulders and whispering hushed comforts to her as she guided her the rest of the way. 

Klaus turned back towards the door expectantly and waited for Ben, desperate for the debrief to start so he could find out what the hell happened. The seconds ticked by, and the door stayed shut. It wasn’t like Ben to delay the debrief. 

He felt Vanya take his hand, and when he turned towards her she was staring at the ground, her eyes squeezed shut and tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“I don’t…” He turned to Pogo, who squeezed his shoulder and looked up at him sadly. “Where’s Ben?” He looked over at their father. “Where is he!?” 

“Silence!” He said sharply, tapping his cane on the ground in front of him. 

Luther straightened his shoulders. Diego’s fist started shaking with the force of his grip on his knife. Allison sobbed into mom’s arm. 

“Children, the city is once again indebted to you,” He announced, looking down his nose at the three of them. “Although the loss of Number Six proved to be… an  _ unfortunate  _ distraction, this was a successful mission, and I congratulate you.”

With that, he turned and began making his way up the stairs. Klaus saw Diego’s hand twitch, and before he could open his mouth to shout there was a sharp crack as his knife hit the handrail their father was holding, splintering the wood an inch above where his hand rested. 

“Is that it?” He asked when their father turned back to face him. “That’s  _ all  _ you have to say?” 

“Nothing more needs to be said.”

“No, there is  _ plenty  _ more that needs to be said.” Diego jabbed a finger at him accusingly, taking a step towards him. “I just watched my brother get ripped  _ apart _ .” 

“As I said, Number Two-”

“Don’t call me that,” He said through gritted teeth, taking another step until they were standing toe to toe. “ _ You _ killed him. You sent him in there, to  _ die _ .” 

“ _ I  _ was not your leader on this mission.” 

Behind them, Luther hunched in on himself and Diego slammed his hand against the railing. 

“No, you don’t get to  _ pin  _ this on  _ Luther _ . You  _ lied  _ to him. You lied to  _ all  _ of us. The only reason  _ any  _ of us got out of there alive is because B-” Diego stared at him, shaking with rage as he tried to get the word out. “B-B-Because B-”

“Spit it out, boy,” Their father said, drumming his fingers on the top of his cane impatiently. 

In a flash, Diego whipped another knife from his belt, holding the tip against their father’s neck. 

“Diego,  _ no!  _ ” Vanya screamed, while Allison hugged mom tighter and Luther threw his hands over his face. 

Klaus stood there, frozen to the spot, watching Diego’s shoulders rise and fall with each quick, shaky breath he took. Their father stood confidently, unphased by the knife pressed to his throat, with an almost bored expression on his face as Diego stared him down. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Diego yielded, hurling the knife at a painting on the opposing wall. 

“ _ Fuck _ you,” He spat, his voice thick as he ripped the umbrella patch from his uniform and threw it at his feet before turning and storming away. 

“Diego-” Klaus tried to reach out for him as he walked past, but his brother shoved past him wordlessly and disappeared down the hall. 

“Dismissed!” Their father said sharply, tapping his cane against the tiles and marching up the stairs to his office. 

Slowly, Grace guided Allison across the hall towards her bedroom. Luther followed, then Vanya, then Pogo, until Klaus was the only one left standing there. 

He trudged across the floor, following the trail of Diego’s blood up to the stairs where he sank down and stared ahead at the door, hoping that maybe, just  _ maybe  _ this whole thing had been one really bad trip, and that any minute now Ben would come through the door, and they could go back to his room and Ben would fill him in on everything that happened on the mission. He heard something dripping on the floor and realised he was crying. How long had he been doing that? Sniffling, he wiped his face on the back of his sleeve and wrapped his arms around himself. 

Down the hall, he could hear the sound of furniture crashing and glass smashing, and then the sound of Vanya’s violin playing. He was aware of a presence stood next to him on the stairs, but it was a few minutes before he could bring himself to look up. 

The ghost had finally made his way out of his bedroom. In the light, Klaus could make out a few more features. Dark, blood soaked hair, a dark brown eye staring wordlessly at him, and the umbrella patch stitched to his uniform. 

One hour fifty eight minutes and thirty two seconds. 

Sighing, he fished the bag of pills out of his pocket and tipped a few into his hand. Three this time? Sure, why not. 

One second. 

A crash as Luther tore one of his models down from the ceiling. 

Two seconds. 

The sound of Diego’s mirror smashing. 

Three seconds. 

Muffled screams as Allison wailed into her pillow. 

Four seconds. 

Five seconds. 

Six seconds. 

Silence. 


End file.
